The Mask in the Mirror
by Dyslexic Angel
Summary: A seeker's mask has no eye holes. A seeker has no identity. So how can two seekers use the masks to find each other? DMxGW
1. The Mask in the Mirror

A Mask in the Mirror

_Crash!_ The sound of something fragile breaking was very loud in the Slytherin dormitory. Shards of black porcelain mixed with water and a few red rose petals poured over the floor, accompanied by a great many curses, none of them spells. Draco Malfoy stood watching the water slowly soak into one of the carpets covering the cold stone floor, torn between anger and tears. He had wanted to save those roses, save the memory of the one who had given them to him. He had so few pleasant memories.

_A masked figure, offering a single, long-stemmed rose. Tanned fingers wrapped gently around the dark thornless stem, stark and pale beside the rich blood color of the petals. A gentle voice, a quiet laugh. A hushed truth. Truth for truth. Love for love._

He bent, rag in hand, and began to sweep up the water, crushing the petals in the process. A shard of black glass ran across his finger, drawing a drop of bright blood. It stung. That was far more familiar.

_Black wand gripped in pale fingers, colorless with the force of anger. Pain. Waves of it, running through his body, overwhelming his brain, until all he could do was scream. Pain, that went on and on and on and on…_

The glass shards were gathered in a pile, along with the crushed remains of the roses. A flick of his wand moved the pile to the trashcan in one corner. He couldn't mend it.

_A conversation. "What is evil?" he asked. "For that matter, what is good?" An answer slow in coming. "Evil is something so self-absorbed, that it can only _want. _It can't see something beautiful without wanting to own it, or wanting to destroy it so no one else can have it. Evil cannot create. Evil cannot mend. It can only copy and destroy." A rueful smile, words that were light except for the bitterness in the bottom. "I guess I'm evil, then." Another laugh from the woman. "No, friend. Never evil. Evil cannot love."_

He rose with a groan, and walked over to sit at the polished wooden desk on one wall of the tiny room. The room was barely large enough to be called a cell, but it was his and his alone.

_"What are you afraid of?" Her question this time. One she had every right to ask. One he knew the answer to, far better than he wanted to. "I'm afraid of being alone. If I didn't have you, what would I have left?" A gentle smile. "Ah, but you do have me. You will always have me."_

Draco drew a sheet of parchment out of a drawer, and uncapped a pot of ink. He took a fresh quill, dipped it into the bottle, and began to write.

_"I wrote to a friend today. He wanted to know who it was I was seeing. He isn't going to like it that I don't know." The masks that hid their faces could not hide their hearts. She cared about this friend. She didn't want him to worry. "I can take it off if you want me to." a gasp of surprise, that he would offer. "No. I'm not ready to know. And I don't think you would want to know who I am." He already knew, but that was beside the point. He would trust her judgment. She was a smart, kind, brave lady. He couldn't bear to lose her, as he would when she found out who it was._

Draco frowned at the paper. It was his third sheet. Every letter he tried to write to his father wound up being to her. Two sheets were already in the trash, the words _Dear Ginevra Weasly_ clearly visible across the top.

_He remembered finding out, realizing just who that vividly red hair belonged to. Realizing just who he had held close and kissed. Expecting to be repulsed. Amused at himself, finding only a quiet chuckle at the world's sense of humor. A little anger; but not at her, never at her. At the uncaring gods who would play such a cruel trick._

Finally he finished the letter. A lit candle stood on one corner of the desk, over which heated a small dish of sealing wax. He poured a little of the wax onto the flap of the envelope, and stamped it shut. The metal seal lifted out to reveal the imprint of a serpent biting its own tail.

_"Ourabouros. He was a myth, the snake who tried to eat the world. I would think the serpent would know his own." The words should have been bitter, coming from her. Instead they held only gentle teasing. It was easy to love her, for her kindness, for her forgiveness. Sometimes it felt as though she would forgive him everything. But she couldn't possibly forgive him for who he was. No one human could._

The tawny owl took the letter, out the window, over the cold snow, below the freezing sky. Draco shivered, closing the window quickly and drawing his robes tighter around him. It was as though some god had foreseen what was bound to happen tonight, and had changed the weather to match.

_He remembered when he had first met her. She had been sitting on the rim of the fountain, in the arching hall of the original ballroom, dating back to the days of the founders. Moonlight streaming in the skylight glinted almost blue on her shockingly red hair; a plain white half-mask covered her face from cheekbone to brow, leaving her lips revealed. Even with the mask, she was beautiful. He had been wearing a mask of his own, a black one. One with the same spells as were woven in to his. A kind of Fidelious charm. No one knows who's behind the mask, except those that already know who put it on._

He flopped gracelessly onto the bed, pulling the curtains shut and burrowing under the blankets, as though he could hide. He was going to tell her tonight. She deserved to know that she had declared her love to the enemy. He didn't want her to damn herself without knowing who she kissed. She needed to know that much. And he couldn't crush the forlorn hope that she really wouldn't care.

_"Unless you happen to be one of about three people, and I know you aren't any of them because they are all back in the common room, you wouldn't want to know who it is you were talking to." A smile and he could only guess an eyebrow lifted in wordless doubt. "Ok, I said that badly. You might want to know, but when you found out you'd smack me." she replied with both sarcasm and kindness. "Oh? You must be really terrible to people who don't know you then." More truth to that than even she knew._

He pulled the blankets over his head, beginning to feel drowsy from the warmth. He lay there for a few more minutes, until sleep stole over him like a thick dark blanket, and he dreamed of her.

_They had been meeting, now, for several nights. At first the conversation had been made slightly awkward by the lack of even personal names, until she- the masked woman- had made a suggestion. "May I call you dragon?" He barely restrained himself from flinching. She was a little too close to his real name. An idea occurred. "All right. May I call you Falcon?" She laughed, as sweet as a silver bell, and nodded assent. They sat like that for a moment, watching each other in the moonlight. The midnight blue walls of the hall were completely hidden in shadow, making it look as though the room stretched on to infinity. Only the fountain and the bench where they sat were lit, by the pale moonlight streaming in the skylight and striking the crystal drops of the chandelier. "Why dragon?" he asked. She looked at him, her expression hard to read behind the mask. "Because you seem like one. Proud, strong, and with just a little mystery." He had looked at her in wonderment. No one had ever said something that nice to him, and meant it. He wasn't sure he deserved it. "So why call me falcon?" she asked, shifting a tiny bit closer to him. It was his turn to laugh. "You are brave and beautiful." He had turned away, only to look back at the light brush of fingertips on his cheek. "Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot." His smile was bitter. "Coming from a stranger in a mask? I don't understand how it means anything at all." Hurt in her voice, hurt he wanted to take back. "Is that all we are? Strangers in masks? I thought we were friends, at least." He looked at her in surprise. She thought he was a friend? "You consider me a… friend?" a trace of bitterness in her smile, that he had to ask. "Of course, silly." Almost to himself, "I've never had a real friend before." If he had looked up, he would have seen pity flash across her features, and a certain weary sympathy. He didn't look up. "You do now." Pity gone from her voice, leaving only fierce determination. His voice was oddly high. "Friends, then?" now he did look at her. "friends." Her hand clasping his, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "Friends…" he breathed, as though tasting the word. His head was inches from her ear. They parted, but some of the closeness remained, gentle warmth in his chest where his heart would be. But he didn't have a heart. His exultation died, but his face merely smoothed to a neutral mask. Any Malfoy was a natural born actor. "Are you alright?" She asked, concern clear on her face. He stopped his first reaction, to react as he would to most people. She wasn't most people. Instead, his voice was soft, and painfully honest. "I don't know. I don't know that I ever will be." A second hug, doing much to banish the fear. He could love her for that._

Draco woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door and rose gracelessly. "Who is it?" he yelled, swinging it open. Only to come face-to-face with Pansy Parkinson. His face never betrayed his disgust. His voice did. "What do _you_ want?"

_She was angry. She was even lovelier when she was angry, but somehow it made him angry too. It made him want to go cause trouble for whoever had made her angry. She spoke abruptly. "Have you ever met someone you just _could not_ stand?" He laughed, hollowly. "Mostly, my dear Falcon, it's people who can't stand me."_

She simpered. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right..," she pouted. "Why wouldn't I be?" he snapped, slamming the door in her face. He leaned back against it and slowly sank down, until he was sitting. "Gods, why do you do this to me?"

_"Do you believe in destiny?" "I don't know, Dragon, but you make a very good case for it." "Huh?" "I mean, what are the odds of two people, both wearing seeker's masks, meeting in an abandoned portion of the castle? Let alone falling in love." Golden fire burned through him, and he turned to face her. "Are we in love, then?" Even with the mask, he could see her blush. She froze like a startled deer—then ran. He stared after her, wishing he could take the words back._

He had missed one of the rose petals. It lay on the floor in front of him, dark blood-red against the smooth white stone. The edges were beginning to dry to a dull black.

_He had come, barely daring to hope that she might. Footsteps crunching on gravel made him look up. A vision for weary hearts stood before him. A navy cloak glittering with false stars covered her squared shoulders, and her face was calm, still hidden by the ivory mask. "You… remember what I said last night?" He nodded, and rose to stand before her. Not as a challenge, but trying to comfort. She was blushing. "I think… no, I know… I'm in love with you." Her voice picked up confidence as she spoke. The words took a moment to sink in, and when they did, he felt a rush of pleasure stronger than anything he had ever felt. A masked figure, offering a single, long-stemmed rose. Tanned fingers wrapped gently around the dark thornless stem, stark and pale beside the rich blood color of the petals. A gentle voice, a quiet laugh. A hushed truth. Truth for truth. Love for love. "I love you, too." They embraced, and lip brushed lip in a single kiss._

It was time. He had to go meet her. He had to go tell her. Draco sighed. Love hurt. He knew he loved her. That wouldn't change. He knew who she was. He went to the closet, and dressed in his favorite robes, a rich midnight blue, nearly black. Last was a mask of the same color. A seeker's mask.

_"Why are they called seeker's masks?" He had asked. It was her brothers who had named them. She should know. "They were named after a book. In the book, a seeker's mask doesn't have eyeholes, and it's used in a game. The seeker has to touch someone, and when they do, they have to become them. The seeker has no identity."_

He opened the door slowly. There was no one in the hall. His footsteps echoed, uncomfortably loud in the nearly empty castle. Everyone else had gone home for Christmas, leaving him, pansy, and a handful of others. The halls were silent. He met no one.

_"I love you so much." Hearing the words from his own lips surprised him, but he knew they were true. She grinned. "Half as much as I love you?" Then she grew serious. "I want you to know who I am. I want to know you say that with full knowledge." Golden hands stole to her face, gripping the edge of the ivory mask, and in one jerk, pulled it off._

The doors of the ancient ball room stood before him, tall and imposing. Normally, they would comfort him. This was his haven. Today it only made the tension worse. If he lost her… he couldn't bear to lose her.

_Golden hands stole to her face, gripping the edge of the ivory mask, and in one jerk, pulled it off. He couldn't restrain a gasp. Not at who she was. He had known for nearly two weeks that Ginevra Weasly wore the ivory mask. He gasped at the sheer unrestrained beauty of her, the fire that burned in her eyes. Right now, she was almost defiant. Tense, waiting for a blow to fall. She thought he wouldn't care for her, knowing who she was. He smiled. "You are every bit as lovely as I thought." She smiled too, and crystal tears of relief glittered in her eyes_

He walked over slowly, seeing her dark and elegant against the pale stone of the fountain. Waiting for him. He walked slowly, feeling dizzy. He wasn't ready for this, she would hate him forever! He took a deep breath. Dragons are brave.

_She smiled, and crystal tears of relief glittered in her eyes. He saw the question on her face, and brushed a finger over her lips before she could voice it. "I want to show you. But I'm scared." I could see the sympathy in her eyes, and the challenge. "I will tell you. Tomorrow, I will show you. But let me just be with you tonight." She had nodded, mollified, and he had stayed. They had not touched, just spoke of little things till the moon began to set and both fled the shadowy hall._

He stood before her. She wore no mask, one brow cocked in reminder of their bargain. Pale hands gripped the edge of the black mask. Numb fingers slid it slowly off, baring the aristocratic face. Draco Malfoy stood with his face bare, and offered a prayer to anything that might listen.

"Please."

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Not sure how good it is, just another one-shot. You know the drill, please please please review. If it was awful, tell me why. Yes, that really is the ending. I might do a sequel, but I kind of like stopping it there. Thank you for your time, I hope you enjoyed the story. BTW, Seeker's Mask is a real book, and a very good one at that.

Dyslexic Angel


	2. Happily Ever After

_**READ THIS FIRST!**_

I decided to continue the story. However, even I couldn't decide what I wanted Ginny's reaction to be. So I wrote both. This chapter is the 'happy' ending; the next is the 'sad' ending.

"Please." His voice was very soft, laden with hope. A prayer. He dropped his eyes, scared to look at her. Draco flinched at the feel if fingers brushing over his cheek, and looked up. A scene entirely out of his dreams stood there; that or his worst nightmares, if it wasn't real. Ginny was still there. She was looking at him, and her face showed only mild amusement.

"Really, Dragon. It's not like you to beg." He looked at her in awe, hardly daring to believer her. She didn't even look surprised.

"You knew?" He asked her, wondering how. She smiled at him.

"I guessed. I know the masks are supposed to prevent that, but really. Did you think my brothers would sell _you_ a working Seeker's mask?" he had to laugh at that. It had been foolish to trust the Weasly twins. She laughed too. He felt light-headed, not carrying the burden of fear, that she would hate him. Suddenly, he pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her until they were both dizzy.

"You truly are amazing, Falcon." He breathed. She looked at him calmly.

"Thank you… but I still have one question." She bit her lip. "Why?" He sobered. A memory drifted through his mind, something he had overheard…

_"Harry? Are you alright?" Granger asked. Harry answered quietly and Draco felt sympathy for the weariness in his voice. "'Mione? Have you ever wished, that just for one day, you could have someone get to know you from scratch? Without having heard of you?" Draco watched the girl bite her lip, and felt a stab of satisfaction that she didn't have all the answers. "Harry, most people who meet me _do_ get to know me from scratch. It's you who have the reputation." Draco winced in sympathy for the dark-haired boy. He knew what it was like to be bitten by reputation. Hermione kept speaking. "All I can tell you is… someone very wise once said; honor is what you know about yourself. Reputation is what people know about you. Guard you honor; let your reputation fall where it will." And Draco had gone away, not happy, but feeling better for the advice. She hadn't even known he was here, but she had helped._

Now he remembered that conversation. "I suppose… I just wanted someone to get to know me, without having been told all their lives how evil I was, or worse, how wonderful. I wanted to be someone other than my father's son." She looked at him with sympathy, not pity. It was a world of difference.

"I know what you mean. Growing up, as the youngest of seven, everybody always met me, and said, oh! Another Weasly. I guess I wanted the same thing, to be something other than my brothers' sister." He smiled at her, and hugged her again. She understood. She smiled wryly. "Speaking of my brothers, they aren't going to be too happy about this. Draco looked at her frankly.

"Are you happy with this?" She looked at him a little curiously, and nodded. Draco felt himself grinning like a loon. "Then I can deal with your brothers. I won't even hex them. Much." She grinned.

"And I'll still hex your father any chance I get." Draco's smile faded, and his voice was harsh with anger when he answered.

"If it comes to that, I'll do it first. I hate him. I would kill him if I could." She hugged him gently, and placed one finger over his lips.

"He is not worthy of your hatred. He is not worthy of your time." He looked at her in wonder. How was it she knew exactly what to say? He kissed her again, passionately.

"Gods, I love you, Falcon." He barely whispered it, but she heard him anyway.

"I love you, too. Fly with me, my Dragon?" And the dragon said, "yes."

This is just one version of the ending. I am planning to do a darker version, where she _is_ disgusted to find out who he is. Anyway, enough people asked for a sequal I wanted to do more. Review!

Dyslexic Angel


	3. Fairytales Don't Come True

_**READ THIS!**_

As I said last chapter, this is an ALTERNATE ENDING. As far as this ending is concerned, the last chapter didn't happen, and not everything that was true in 'Happily Ever After' is true in THIS ending.

"please." He didn't dare speak it, only mouth the word. He looked up, to meet her eyes. His worst fears were confirmed by the hatred in her eyes. Even worse than the hatred, was the pain. He wished he could take it away; but he was Draco Malfoy. Evil cannot mend.

"_You._" Her voice was unrecogniable with rage. It rose hysterically as she spoke. "You, lying, cheating, filthy _serpent!_ You tricked me! Was it all a lie, then? See how long you can fool the poor, stupid mudblood lover?" He flinched from the self-hatred in her tone. She took it as guilt. "Well, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. IF I NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN, IT WILL BE _FAR_ TOO SOON!" with that, she threw down her own mask. The white ceramic shattered against the pale blue tile. Draco raised a hand, trying to get her to stay, hear him out, _anything._ Ginny raised her hand too, for a different reason, and the next second turned his head with a slap that echoed through the deserted halls. Without another word, she stalked off. Draco just watched her go, one hand covering the reddening bruise on one pale cheek, too stunned even to cry. Even if you were expecting it, it was still shocking. He sank to his knees, pinned by the pale moonlight. Tears were streaming silently down his face, beading like crystal on the blue tiles of the floor. He doubled over, and wept for what he had lost.

Contrary to Draco's belief, Ginny had not gotten far, either. She leaned agianst the great doors to the hall, breathing hard, torn between anger and hurt. That vicious, backstabbing _ferret!_ How dare he play her for the fool? And she had _kissed_ him! She shuddered at the memory, wishing she could take it back. Wishing she could take it all back.

"Why, oh why, did I want to know who was behind the mask?" she asked the empty halls. _Because you wanted to greet your love face to face_. Answered a tiny voice in her head. She told the voice, silently, to shut up. Ignorance really could be bliss sometimes. Yet, she couldn't have gone on, not knowing who it was. And he had told her willingly enough. More proof that he was only toying with her. "Gods, I am a fool." She berated herself. The empty corridor gave no reply, only mocking her with the echoes of her own voice. This was getting her nowhere. She pushed herself up from the doors and began to walk back to griffindore tower. She had barely gotten four feet when she ran into something clothy and invisible. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was. Ginny yanked the cloak of Harry and glared at him, the effect somewhat spoiled by the tears in her eyes. Nevertheless, he flinched.

"And what," she asked, voice rising again, "are _you_ doing here?" he blushed slightly, but answered unabashedly.

"Following you. You've been kind of distant all day, and I just wanted to make sure you were allright."

"Just peachy-keen." Ginny growled, throwing the cloak at him. "Why wouldn't I be all right? I've just had the worst day of my life after all." Suddenly the full impact of the day hit her, and she started crying again, leaning on Harry for support. He looked like he didn't know what to make of this. "just peachy-keen." She said again, voice breaking.

The next morning, Ginny walked into the great hall to find Draco already there. He looked quiet and subdued, and a vivid purple bruise covered half his left cheek-bone. His eyes were colorless gray, and his skin was even paler. He looked like a washed-out photagraph, left in the sun too long. Not that she was looking. Ginny sat down and served herself, determinatly not looking at the slytherin. He would not see how much he had upset her.

Across the hall, Draco was trying very hard not to cry. Ginny looked terrible, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, with deep shadows smudged under them. It would be best if she never knew how much she had hurt him. She wouldn't believe him anyway, and a Slytherin doesn't show weakness. Of course, Slytherins weren't supposed to fall in love, either. Thinking about it, there was a reason for that. It always ended badly. No one would see his pain. Better that way.

Okay, that was a bit of a downer. I probably won't continue with this (it's too depressing.) but thank you very much to the four of you who reviewed the first chapter. I'm not sure how good my two endings were, but I guess I'm glad I wrote them. If you havn't reviewed yet, shame on you. If you don't understand what's going on, double shame on you, you should have read the 'read this first' or the 'read this.' Thank you for your time, and again for the lovely reviews.

Dyslexic Angel


	4. Daydreaming

Twice before, I thought I had finished it. The first time, I ended it with what didn't seem like an ending to some people, so I wrote two endings. Now, I'm realizing that I want to do something else to tie it all together. Sorry if it doesn't make any sense.

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_Pale fingers wrapped around the stem of a blood red rose…_

Ginny shook herself out of the daydream, looking down at the plain white mask in her hand. Made of fragile porcelain, it resembled the mask the Phantom wore in a famous muggle play. She looked again at the garish sign on the shelf, smiling slightly at the painfully bright colors. _Seeker's Masks_ she read. _Hide yourself from your enemies! Guarantied to disguise you from your own mother!_ Indeed, that was so. Fred and George had tested them, and Molly had been right upset when she'd found out about it later. The Seeker's Masks were a very clever invention, but the twins were very careful who they sold them to. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice how easily the masks could become a weapon.

Ginny returned the mask to the bin, shaking her head at her silly flight of fancy. Draco Malfoy, how absurd. Still… She picked the mask up again, running her hands over the white glassy surface.

When Ginny left the shop, it was carrying a small wrapped box, carefully so as not to break its contents.

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Draco flipped casually through the daily prophet, more for something to do than because he really cared. A bright flier fell out as he turned the pages, and he picked it up with a little disgust at the too-bright colors. He read the scrolling font on the top, and nearly threw the tiny catalog away in disgust. Weaslys. Feh. An advertisement caught his eye… _Tired of being taken at face value? New, Seeker's Masks render you completely unidentifiable…_ Draco eyed it carefully, and then turned to the page mentioned.

He read the page twice, rolling the facts over in his mind. It certainly had appeal… Draco allowed himself a brief moment of daydream. Meeting someone who hadn't decided who he was before the first meeting… talking civilly about something other than serving a madman. He looked at the page once more, reading through the list of colors and styles. A few minutes later, his mother found him busily scratching away with paper and quill. Draco had an order to make.

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Draco slipped back down to his room in the Slytherin dungeons right after breakfast. It wouldn't kill him to miss _one_ transfiguration class… He laid the parcel on his bed, and stripped off the brown paper.

He'd been waiting for this to come for weeks, hoping that the Weaslys would send him one, even with his track record. He picked up the object in the box, savoring the tingle of magic prickling his fingertips. A mask made out of paper-thin black glass lay in his hands, stark contrast to pale skin.

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Everyone arrived that year just as they did every year. So far as Harry was concerned, the strangest thing about this year was that no one had tried to kill him yet. He looked at Ginny, who was playing with her toast with a far away expression on her face. He teased her gently about pining over some boy, and she laughed and teased him about Cho. Her smile was light, and she was already thinking about the ceramic mask in her room. The moon would be full tonight.

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AN: As I said, not sure if this ending was a good idea or not, but I felt like tying it all together a bit more. Please review, that would really make my day. You can't miss the button; it's right here.

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